


Perfection

by cowboykylux



Series: Pale x Reader Vignettes [14]
Category: Burn This - Wilson
Genre: 1980s Sleaze, Clubbing, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Post-Canon, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Sleazy and Seedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 23:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20665559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: 'The room was dark, the music was loud, and the air was filled with smoke. Someone was getting a blowjob in the corner, someone else was getting just blow – it was a recipe for perfection if you asked Pale, who was seated back in the special VIP booth with you.'





	Perfection

The room was dark, the music was loud, and the air was filled with smoke. Someone was getting a blowjob in the corner, someone else was getting just blow – it was a recipe for perfection if you asked Pale, who was seated back in the special VIP booth with you. 

He was puffing on his cigarette, adding to the haze of the shitty hole-in-the-wall club, and you were practically draped across his lap, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses to his neck as one of your hands rubbed his muscular chest.

Pale had wedged his free hand in between your legs, had slipped his fingers under your dress and past your panties, and was slowly pumping them in and out of your pussy, drawing just the best fuckin’ noises from you. Your kisses on his neck were steady but sloppy, which he fuckin’ loved, and your moans were practically drowned out by the bass of the club so only he could hear them ‘cause of how close the two of you were pressed together.

So go fuckin’ figure that some schmuck had to come along and ruin it.

“Hey man,” Some random busboy wandered over, “You can’t have that out.”

The guy – had to probably be twenty-one fuckin’ years old or something at the very least to be workin’ at a place like this – was talkin’ about the little mirror with lines of coke Pale had cut on the table so it would be nice and ready for him by the time he was finished smokin’ his cigarette and making you come.

He rolled his eyes, pushing his fingers into you kinda hard, making you gasp out in pleasure. The noise made the busboy clearly uncomfortable. Pale did it again.

“You probably can’t be doin’ that here either.” The busboy gestured to how you were pushing yourself down onto Pale’s hand, how you were rubbing his chest through the opened buttons of his silk shirt, how you were gently biting and sucking on his gold chain.

“Go fuck your mother.” Pale dismissed him with his cigarette in-between his teeth, freeing his second hand to pull you so that you were straddling his lap.

“What?” The busboy asked, either shocked or offended or just couldn’t hear, Pale didn’t know which.

“That’s French for go away, dipshit.” He huffed out as he arranged your legs to his liking, fished out his cock and sat you down on it in one rough thrust.

“Oh!” You moaned, tucking your face into his shoulder, bracing yourself on his chest.

God you felt so fucking good around him, he plucked his cigarette out of his mouth and with his other hand he fisted your hair tight.

“Can’t you see you’re interruptin’ a real fuckin’ nice moment here?” Pale asked the busboy, who was barely making eye-contact. Your hips had a mind of their own, and you moved them just a little, just enough to start building up some friction, the hot walls of your cunt squeezing at Pale’s cock. 

“Sorry man, sorry.” The busboy said, scrambling away.

“That wasn’t very nice.” You smiled.

“Who gives a shit?” Pale asked, grabbing your face and licking into your mouth.

You just laughed and rode him no problem in the back of the club.

Perfection at last.


End file.
